


Fury

by Nillas NSFW Corner (Agraulis_vanillae)



Series: The Fallen Series [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reborntale, Angel Alphys, Angel Asriel, Angel Toriel, Angel Undyne, Demon Mettaton, Demon W.D. Gaster, Fallen Angel Asgore, Fallen Angel Papyrus, Grillby's, Heaven, Hell, Human Grillby, M/M, Sequel to Fall, Slayer Chara, Slayer Frisk, Swords, Underworld, demon sans, graveyard, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 02:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11026974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agraulis_vanillae/pseuds/Nillas%20NSFW%20Corner
Summary: He burned from the inside out, the hollows in his eyes blown up with the searing sensation of WRATH. He clutched at them, feeling his bones lock and buckle under him.The angel advanced forward, sword gleaming ominously in the approaching morning light.





	Fury

It’d been a week and Papyrus still hadn't woken up.

 

He seemed to have stopped bleeding for good, although Sans could only afford to sleep at his bedside for the first few days before he needed to return to policing his territory. The time he spent at Papyrus's side left him time to think, and to focus his awareness of the situation beyond Papyrus's burns, the bandages over the jagged stubs of his wings that Asgore changed daily like clockwork. There was no reason that the demonic underworld wouldn't be fully aware of what had happened at this point, the event of an angel falling was ostentatious to say the very least, and Sans's appearance to catch him attracted attention from all parties. He had to cement his threshold on the surface, where territory could be taken by anyone, before he could consider doing anything else.

 

The dogs didn't all gather around him at once when he'd returned, Lesser Dog had to inch over stool by stool, before cautiously leaning whilst being over three stools away, neck stretching to sniff Sans. He ignored the attention and focused on his drink until Lesser Dog's neck retracted again and they were at his side, snuffling at his hand tucked in his hoodie pocket. He extracted his hand, holding a piece of dried meat tightly in his grasp responded with a grin and authoritative voice,

 

“knock knock.”

 

Immediately, Lesser Dog's ears perked up and his tongue lulled out, before he woofed. The other dogs, who'd been watching out of the corners of their eyes with undisguised interest had turned their heads completely to give Sans their full attention, Greater Dog already joining Lesser Dog in jostling for the treat.

 

Sans held the meat higher meaningfully, “anthem.”

 

Lesser Dog and Greater Dog gave two barks, Greater Dog's bark with an oddly warped quality, like someone had shoved an instrument down their throat and left it there.

 

With a wink and a wave of his hand, he revealed a second piece of jerky. “i got you both treats, you anthem devils you.”

 

With that, the dogs in the bar gave up any pretense of indifference and circled around to join in. “Another one! (Yes another!!)” the Dog Marriage prompted.

 

“what do demons have for breakfast?” Sans asked, and another bar patron groaned, the human sitting next to a duck-billed demon that's seemed to have taken a liking to Grillby and often predicted what Grillby would say even without the human bartender saying anything.

 

“Man, you go away for like a week but you still can't be bothered to think of any new material.” He shook his glass at Grillby beseechingly, the melting ice cubes clinking rhythmically.

 

Doggo was the first to respond, “Devilled eggs!” with the rest of the dog pack following in a discordant chorus. Sans raised his drink to his teeth, his grin morphing into a slight smirk, before tossing the dogs each a morsel.

 

“hey taking a break from a break takes all my concentration.” He silently added to himself,  _ As well as preparing this place for an all out war. _

 

~

 

Another week passed, Papyrus still asleep. Leaving each day to fortify his territory, the magic under the city's concrete absolutely writhing now with charged magic and ill intent,but it was getting harder and harder to reinforce anymore. His concentration was splitting between the herculean task ahead of him and wondering when the fallen angel would wake up. He just wanted Papyrus back, he missed his bright smile and sunny outlook.

 

Of course, not all of their enemies were angels, and it didn't take long for Sans's fortifications to attract the attention of some someone's that he was very eager to talk to during one particularly cloudy thundering night.

 

The second they set foot near the bar, the ground around them erupted with brilliant cerulean bones and they were facing the maw of an eerie glowing blaster. Dodging the blaster by sacrificing a few HP points and dashing through the blue magic, the air had hissed past Chara with a resounding roar of concentrated energy racing beyond them but with a practiced wave Sans had turned Frisk's soul blue and shoved them far from him.

 

“FRISK!!”

 

Chara screamed as their twin was slammed into a wooden electric line pole off-kilter, only barely managing to avoid being T-boned and breaking their spine.

 

“you just couldn't stay away, could you?” He growled, his candlelight gold eyelights glowing dimly in the fading red light of sundown. Chara advanced quickly as he knew they would, and prepared for it, bones appearing in the sky to stab downwards. Diving to avoid the attack, Chara made for Sans with a furious swipe and Sans stepped aside only to stomp hard onto Chara's wrist, a low cracking made mute by the accompanying howl of pain. “you get rid of your guardian angel, and you still think you can trespass? no one's ever accused you of a lack of guts that's for sure. but that mindless DETERMINATION of yours is going to get you killed.”

 

His grin lengthened across his skull, his eye sockets manically wide. “in fact this is, what? the quice time you've picked a fight? hm... quice? frice? doesn't matter, won't have to use it anymore.”

 

He waved as if he had no cares and bones circled them, levitating in a slow threatening sphere. Frisk wasn't moving where they were thrown. Chara jerked their arm to try and rescue their wrist from underneath Sans's foot but he ground down his calcaneus hard and they cried out in a helpless animal snarl. He held his hand up purposefully and Chara’s eyes followed it unwillingly, just before he snapped his fingers.

 

“CEASE, DEMON!” The two were blasted apart with force, and Chara was caught in mid-flight before they could join their twin. Sans caught himself with a flare of his wings, his magic attack in crumbled away by the ambush, and prepared for the fight to escalate anew.

 

The being that now stood with Chara pulled them behind him. Light buffeted Sans in waves, a passive combat effect of their holy presence. He towered over all of them with his height, horns curled back, white fur framing a face vaguely like Asgore's but shockingly dark slashes of fur curling around his young adult face. The purple robes fell around him shapelessly, a small heart shaped locket hanging from his neck.

 

The bones paused in their flight and then as the sun fell, casting dark over the fight. Sans's wings flared with cyan light and then the rest of the territory was alight in darkness crawling and the sky blocked off by threads of magic that crossed and folded around them like a cocoon set alight by an eerie sapphire glow. Mist curled around them, the temperature dropping perceptibly until frost was sprouting from the moisture and crystallizing across the sidewalk with alarming speed.

 

“who are you?” Sans hissed between his teeth, gritting them with an a low grinding emitting through the crystallized atmosphere.

 

“Howdy!” He nodded to Sans with a small smile on his face bordering on amusement. “I am Chara and Frisk's guardian angel, Asriel Dreemurr.”

 

“why would those brats get another guardian angel after attempting to murder their previous angel?” Sans demanded, before his rapidly working mind clicked onto a potential answer. “don't tell me that papyrus's fall has something to do with it.”

 

“The fall of the Guardian Papyrus does not strip heaven's protection from these human twins Sans, Greater Demon of Balthazar.” He crouched close to Chara, listening to something they were whispering and nodding seriously. “Go get Frisk, I'll take care of this.”

 

Chara scurried hesitantly at first, and then made a mad dash for Frisk who was still on the ground. Sans shoved a fury of bones in their direction but they were severed and disintegrated by a shimmering sword that Asriel held, the other sword materializing into existence.

 

“Not on my watch smiley trashbag,” the angel told him, wings spreading wide in a threatening pose. There was something hackneyed and inefficient about it, like Asriel had watched one too many action movies. An immature angel like that will be an easy kill.

 

“your move.” Sans responded, playing out what kind of moves the angel might play next and arranging the beams of the blasters accordingly. The angel seemed to dissolve like a failing image rather than a person, and suddenly he was facing the returning fire of a much larger ram's head.

 

_ GYAOWR! _

 

Sans took his shortcut right out of the blast in time, more information shaping his strategy during the fight. He fired off some blasters at the kids again to force the opposing angel to shield them with a swipe of his oversized swords, making note to avoid the sparks that sizzled from the force of the swing even as Sans dissipated into his shortcut once more and reappears behind Asriel. A cracking emanated from his ribcage, a fissure appearing through it. Asriel turns in time to see his sternum shatter. The ribs elongated and jutted out into a toothy jagged sideways maw, and then Asriel flew forward. Bones stabbed out of the ground to catch and tear at the angel's robe, and the cavernous opening that was Sans's ribcage snapped shut with a grating screech of agonized bone onto tufts of fur.

 

There was a pinprick of white emanating in the open darkness at the heart of Sans's ribcage before the fissure mended. The moment the crack closed into nothing, his vision overlapped with a whole other image that didn't make any sense to his adrenalized mind but the distraction was enough for the angel to fly to the twins.

 

“where do you think you're going-” Sans growled more bones splitting through the ground as he charged his attack, but he stopped in place once he saw the large hole in his magic trap.

 

That magic wasn't supposed to be penetrable.

 

Hoisting both kids into his arms, the angel darted through and disappeared.

 

Sans was contemplating going after them and finishing the job for once when his vision doubled again, this time allowing his eyelights to gutter out to focus on the image and realizing what he was seeing was the inside of Papyrus's room in Gaster's home. This unexpected phenomenon could only mean one thing to him-

 

Papyrus was awake.

 

~

 

Sans didn't even bother with doors at this point, Asgore and Gaster knew he would show up and disappear as he pleased with Papyrus here anyways, and so he took his shortcut straight into Papyrus's room in time to save the ex-angel from the nefarious forces of gravity. Papyrus startled at Sans's grip on his elbow and fell back on his tailbone onto the mattress and kicked off sheets.

 

“NYEH SANS! YOU SCARED ME, I THOUGHT…” His expression scrunched together, as if trying hard to chase after some errant thought. “WELL IT DOESN'T MATTER NOW.”

 

“how are you feeling?” Sans inquired, maintaining a steadfast hold on Papyrus as he attempted to stand on his bare feet again. The carpet murmured as Papyrus managed to balance carefully, shifting his weight forward from his heels. His boots were off in the corner, joined by his gloves and scarf, the only pieces to survive his fall. The scarf was clumsily repaired by Asgore trying to figure out how to use a needle for the first time. Neither Gaster nor Sans knew the first thing about sewing or creation for that matter- cooking wasn’t done so much as it was thrown in a pot or ordered from Grillby’s. 

 

“NOT QUITE MYSELF… BUT BETTER NOW THAT YOU’RE HERE!” Despite still looking like he’d been thrown into a bonfire with teeth, and then turned into a mummy with a chalky perplexion and dim eyelights making his eyesockets painfully hollow, he shot a warm smile at Sans that caught him by surprise.

 

He cleared his throat gruffly, “you lost a lot of marrow, i didn’t think you’d…” The statement invoked the not so old memory of his lone figure falling from the sky, blood raining after him. “... make it. not without your wings.”

 

“MY WINGS… IS THAT WHY MOVING HURTS HERE?” He rolled his shoulders and winced mid movement, his bones sloping as he carefully relaxed them again. Despite the forced looseness to his arms, his spine was compensating by being kept rigidly straight.

 

“don’t worry about it, huh?” Sans rushed to reassure him in the only way he could. “i can take you under my wing.” He spread his wings out, only the bone visible under the artificial light and winked, eliciting a groan from Papyrus.

 

“SANS NO!”

 

Asgore’s voice sounded from outside the house as they drew closer to the kitchen, presumably in the garden that he tended. “Sans, is young Papyrus awake?” Papyrus looked to Sans, his curiosity alight. 

 

“YOUR FRIENDS KNOW OF I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS?.. AND YOU LIVE WITH THEM? DEMONS MUST BE MUCH MORE GREGARIOUS THAN BELIEVED IN HEAVEN.” Papyrus remarked before they entered the open doorway to Gaster’s kitchen.

 

Gaster sniffed, his face close to the book he was reading, one hand poised to flip the page while another off hand shooed belligerently at Sans. “I look forward to the day you become reacquainted with the front door Sans.”

 

Entering the house through the back door, pulling off heavy-duty leather gardening gloves and shaking the dirt off outside the house, Asgore chuckled, “And yet, much less than you’d think.”

 

Sans was taken by surprise when he was shaken off Papyrus, who fell forward, messily onto his knees with his patellas sliding across the kitchen tile and dipping him forward before he corrected it and successfully knelt. His color had turned ashen, his bones rattling with a rising tremor. “SERAPHIM TORIEL! THE FALLEN ANGEL PAPYRUS IS H-HONORED AND G-GRATE-”

 

Agore gently held Papyrus’s arms with his large paws, the gesture meaning to be soothing but his whole body seized up like prey caught in a trap. “At peace, young consort of Sans. You are speaking to a fellow fallen angel. You may call me Asgore.”

 

Sans could feel his hackles rise up again like in the earlier scuffle that day, unspent rage seething with molten fury at the traumatic air that emitted through his conditioned response to which Papyrus responded to the mild mannered giant. Asgore as well became aware of the effect he had on the broken angel, and withdrew with an empathetic yet melancholic smile. He gave the angel the distance he clearly needed by busying himself with the kettle on the stove as Sans helped Papyrus to his feet again, the tension even in his shoulders now where the broken bone of his former wings were jutting out sharply and straining the fabric around them. The smell of marrow seeped out, rich and heavy before Sans saw the minute blossoms of red in the white of his bandages. Gaster watched the spectacle, expression unreadable.

 

Asgore poured enough water into the kettle for four people, and Sans objected, “none for me, asgore.”

 

“Who’s to say that the fourth cup is for you?” Asgore responded teasingly, the more casual atmosphere returning gradually. He pulled out a plastic baggie full of loose leaf tea and measured it out into the cups.

 

Papyrus sat in the kitchen chair painstakingly, and Sans sat next to him to first lean against him, and then kicking his seat over to support his femurs and placing the center of his weight between his seat and Papyrus.

 

“Sans, sit up like a normal demonic being.” Asgore sighed in exasperation. 

 

Sans winked up at Papyrus as the taller blinked, the tremor in his bones leaving gradually, “hey, it takes all my energy to be as slovenly as i am.”

 

Soon, the bantering had Papyrus looking around curiously once more, first training his gaze on Gaster’s many hands at work, and then transferring his attention to Asgore who was pouring the hot water out into a teacup that Gaster held out. Aware of the other angel’s gaze but practicing more caution not to trigger Papyrus’s avoidance reflexes, he poured out a cup that he pushed out past the center of the table and another cup for himself before sitting down to blow away the steam.

 

“IS THAT… FOR ME?” Papyrus asked Sans who’d slowly migrated down to his lap as the chair slid away from him. 

 

“Yes it is. Please drink it before it gets cold.” Gaster responded. Papyrus hesitatingly reached over and sipped at it.

 

For a few minutes, all that could be heard was the low grinding of Sans’s chair sliding away before he gave up the balancing act as a bad job and pushed himself up, Gaster paging through his book, and everyone else drinking tea. The aroma of marrow diffused through the air more heavily, but no one said anything.

 

Eventually, Papyrus became bold enough to ask, “D-DID YOUR HOLINESS GROW A BEARD?”   
  


Asgore chuckled, deep and heartfelt. “Please just call me Asgore. But yes, I prefer a beard to clean shaven. Do you wish to feel it?”

 

“YES PLEASE!” Papyrus leaned across the table to touch the long blonde hair lightly, childlike in his fascination. His quick recovery from his fearful reaction came as a relief to Sans, who wasn’t certain what to expect after the incident. He looked to Gaster, and caught his eye. The older demon slightly raised his shoulders up and down in a shrug. He seemed equally as flummoxed by the angel’s interactions as Sans. Sans paid closer attention to them then, as his interest was piqued.

 

“Are you hungry Papyrus? It may not be much, but I can make a sandwich.” Asgore asked.

 

“DO YOU HAVE NOODLES? I’D LIKE TO MAKE SPAGHETTI IF I CAN!” Papyrus sat up on the edge of his seat, clutching his teacup with eageness.

 

“we don’t have spaghetti noodles, but i think they have some angel hair pasta.” Sans remarked, barely containing a snicker as Gaster shot him a dirty look.

 

“Leave and never come back.”

 

Asgore furrowed his eyebrows. “When did we get angel hair pasta?”

 

“ANGEL HAIR PASTA COULD WOR-ERR… WAIT… SANS OH MY GOD WHY!!!” Papyrus screamed mid-sentence as Sans started wheezing with laughter and Asgore looked at all three of them, completely confused.

 

“I feel like something flew over my head here?”

 

“don’t worry ‘bout it.” Sans reclined in his chair, grinning as he finally relaxed, Papyrus appearing to be recovering.

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't stay away could I? Welcome everyone, to the sequel to Fall! I'll be doing my best to write the next 3 chapters with posthaste as part of my birthday celebration this week starting with this chapter! In the next 6 days, I should hopefully be able to have written some pretty long stories including a fairy oneshot, one of my favorite pairings with a heavy extra serving of fluff, a naga oneshot, and Alphyne. If you'd like to see what I've got going on, feel free to visit my tumblr! Otherwise, look forward to the next chapter!  
> https://agraulisvanillae.tumblr.com/


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